Castiel's Trip
by Laura JN
Summary: Castiel needs to get away, and ends up in Middle Earth. Chaos ensues, and Dean ends up in the strangest of situations. There is a third show involved but its a surprise :) Some mild Destiel subtext - End of Season 8 spoilers for supernatural -
1. Small-ish people

A single bead of sweat ran its course along the contours of the man's cheekbones, as he frantically moved about. He was completely unused to this feeling of 'panic', and was having a hard time dealing with thinking rationally while he tried to adjust. He was darting about the room, hurling objects away from the surfaces they occupied. Books and papers went flying from the desk, as he swept it all to the side, causing several items to smash onto the floor.

"_Come on_ Dead Sea brine." Castiel muttered, "There _must_ be Dead Sea brine." He had all but torn apart Bobby Singer's old home, desperately searching for it. "Aha!" He exclaimed, find a strange looking capsule. He hurriedly emptied the contents into a bowl. Now... "Blood of lamb... blood of lamb." Once again, the man scoured the tiny house for the ingredient he needed.

Thanks to Metatron, Castiel was human now. It was all he could do, to get out of there. He had watched in horror and sadness as his brethren fell from the skies. It was a hauntingly beautiful meteor shower of angels, but he had fled. Sam and Dean had promised to get things under control. He would have just gotten in their way. Without his powers, what was he really? "Blood of lamb!" He found jar in the fridge. There was a fairly well stocked supply of the substance in the kitchen. He knew this was where Balthazar had come to find the ingredients for the last time they had pulled this stunt. This time however, Castiel was relying on Dean. He hated to leave Dean behind, but he needed him to get at least one angel on their side, so they could pull Castiel back through the dimensions when it was time. They had agreed on two months. That was how long he would have to survive in wherever he ended up. His counterpart, Misha, had died in that other dimension, so he would have to find another.

After finally locating the bone of a lesser saint, Castiel mixed together the ingredients in the bowl, and dipped his finger into the substance. He could trust Dean to help him out, right? He suddenly felt his gut clench, and wondered if he was coming down with some strange human illness. He pondered this subject, as he painted a symbol on the window. His work complete, Castiel strode over to the other side of the room. With no powers, he would have to jump. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and the urge to wince, and cringe away from the glass, but his experience kicked in, and he sprinted straight to the window, and dived through the glass.

Shards exploded outwards around him, peppering the grass with reflected sunlight. It was midday? Castiel had landed alright for someone who had never experienced human fear in their whole lifetime, and he stood up now, to be welcomed by a warm, afternoon sun. It shone down through the trees, dappling the meadows and tiny homes. He inhaled sharply, suddenly very aware that he was not in South Dakota any more.

The man took a step forward, and noted now, that several small-ish people were scurrying toward him down the little path that ran in front of him. There was only a small hedge, and a tiny wooden gate between him and some rather sceptical and peeved looking individuals. They looked as if their concern was only to conceal their curiosity. Each of them looked human, save their rather large feet, and pointed ears. He looked from one to the other, then back to the first,

"Sorry about that." He gestured to the millions of tiny shards that had ruined someone's neatly kept lawn. He hoped his apology would suffice, though he very much doubted that. Just then, he could hear the sound of a door opening beside him. Castiel turned, to see another small-ish person, emerging from behind a round front door. They looked up at him for a moment, then spied the mess in their garden,

"Good gracious!" The small man exclaimed. "What happened here?" He asked, then returned his gaze to Castiel. He soon adorned the same, scrutinizing expression as the other small-ish people. "Are you in league with that wizard?"

"Sorry... wizard?" Castiel asked, hoping he had not left one world, only to get caught up in some dangerous battle between sorcerers. "I can assure you I don't know any wizards. My name is Castiel, and I'm an ange-" He cut off, realizing it was A) a bad idea to introduce himself truthfully, and B) it was not technically truthful to refer to himself as an angel either way. "I'm a man of faith." He settled for the vaguest description possible.

"Castiel? Sounds like an Elf to me." A younger looking, female small-ish person spoke up. "Are you from... you know... one of the forests? Or maybe Rivendell?"

"Uh... no. I'm from um..." Castiel stalled, looking about him for ideas, as if they could be plucked from the garden.

"No look silly, hes a man. He has side burns. Elves don't have side burns." The male small-ish person clarified, then looked up at Castiel with a raised eyebrow, "You must have come a long way."

"You have no idea..."

"Oh my! Are you from Gondor?" The female piped up. Castiel settled for that option.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm lost. Trying to get back to Gondor you know. I was in uh... Rivendell. I got separated from my fellow travellers." He was relieved that these people used less confusing slang than the Winchesters. Perhaps surviving here would not be such a problem. Looking about him, he could see how peaceful and cheery the small village looked.

"Oh you want to go to Bree for that. Here let me point you in the right direction. You can make it to the inn before nightfall if you set out now." One of the males turned, and aimed his entire arm to point down the path. "Follow the road that way." He smiled. Castiel simply nodded, and strode away. Perhaps they were keen to have him gone, so they could clear up the glass.

And so Castiel set out on a journey that would take him far into the mountains, completely lost, and with little supplies. Having been too shy to ask for directions at the Prancing Pony, and much too confused to ask an Orc where he was, he followed a river out of the mountains, and eventually happened upon a deep, old forest in Rhovanion. Here he became further lost, and unaware that he now moved northward, deeper into the forest.

The dark sky let shadows hang on the ground like eerie scorch marks, casting blackness around the forest floor. Dead bark and moss crunched beneath Castiel's shoes, as he trudged on through the night. The air was cool around his neck and hands, and he felt a deep shiver run through his body. Should he have left the Shire? Something told him that he was not the first person to ponder this question.

It was at that moment, than an arrow came hurtling past Castiel's right ear, followed shortly by another on his left. He stopped walking, and stood still. Where had the arrows come from? A moment later, he was completely surrounded by tall, blond men. A dozen more arrows were directed toward his body, so he slowly raised his hands in surrender. One of the men spoke up,

"You will come with us, trespasser." He declared. Castiel could see that now would be a very poor choice of timing to argue. The man had elegantly pointed ears, high, defined cheekbones, and a flowing white mane, tamed by a single thin braid on either side of his head. He held Castiel's gaze with intense, diamond eyes, then turned to lead him away. The men lowered their bows, but they flanked him on all sides, as they marched him to wherever their base was.

As Castiel was lead away from that lonely part of the forest, he hummed to himself. At first this helped him keep his spirits up, but soon he was elbowed in the side by one of the men. He winced, and looked up at the man, but he was facing forward, with a dazed expression that was a little too casual. He was beginning to wonder if he should have said something in his defence, but knew from experience that he should wait for the right moment. He was not very good at picking these moments, as he had originally believed that awkward silences were the correct times to speak up, but now he thought that it was perhaps when he was told it was appropriate.

After much marching, and climbing of trees, Castiel was lead into a beautiful clearing. The ancient trees were lit with lanterns that hung from their branches, casting a warm glow on the wood. Bridges, terraces and balconies were carved out of the great trees, and built up around them. He was lead across one particularly long, and elegantly crafted bridge, and up a staircase that spiralled up around a tree. He was lead up, and up, and finally onto a platform that created a sort of room between two trees. The ceiling was lined with tiny lanterns that lit the room, and vines that had been woven into a swirling pattern. In front of him was a large, ornate, wooden throne; and upon that throne, sat the most majestic being that Castiel had ever seen,

"So majestic..." He murmured. At this, the impressive man slowly, gracefully turned his head, and slowly his eyes turned their gaze upon him. Those deep, fathomless eyes, that spoke of age. They were much like his own. His face looked as if it had been carved by a master, who knew intimately the epitome of beauty in a male face. His eyebrows were laced with silver, and his hair was even more elegant than the soldiers'. It fell back from his head in a cascade of creams and blonde hues, and was held in place by the most amazing crown. On seeing the crown, Castiel realized that he was in the presence of royalty.

"You will kneel before the Elvenking." One of the soldiers commanded. Castiel knelt down on one knee, but instantly regretted this, as his knee began to twinge uncomfortably.

"You believe me glorious?" The Elvenking asked him. His hearing must be good, Castiel thought,

"...I didn't think you'd heard that..."

"Such is the nature of all those whose perceive my visage." He smiled. The Elf perched with his legs crossed elegantly, one over the other. "Why did you enter our domain?" He asked; his piercing gaze narrowing,

"I was lost. I'm looking for... uhh... Gondor. Well, I _was_. Nobody told me it was so far away." Castiel tried to explain.

"You seek the famed city, yet you struggle to recall its name? You have never been there. Where are you from?" There was a quiet calm to the Elf's voice. He did not see Castiel as a threat, clearly, but he wanted information. Castiel swallowed. He could not explain a dimensional jump, so he would have to 'blag' his way through this.

"I've travelled from Hobbiton. And no, I don't seek the city any more. In fact I should probably go back..."

"You have come all this way from the S_hire_? Alone? It appears that you are confused about your destination. No wonder you became lost." The Elf was observant, Castiel realized. He would have to tread very carefully.

"Yes." He replied simply; his eyes flitting down then back to the King's. It was more than a little embarrassing.

"How can it be that a man such as yourself, has not yet found purpose? You are no more a child than I."

"We are all children of God-" Castiel winced. He could not believe he had just let that slip. A slow, amused smile appeared on the Elvenking's lips, reaching his eyes and causing him to chuckle,

"This cannot be." He mused, "And here I thought it was only the Elves who still held faith." Castiel blinked. What? There was no way they shared the same beliefs. This had to be a coincidence. Further blagging was required,

"No, I too have faith." He put on his most convincing serious face. It was not entirely a lie. He still had faith: It was just in Dean now, rather than his father. He had held onto that faith as he trudged through the plains, mountains and forest for the few weeks.

"Oh but this is a surprise. Tell me your name mortal."

"Castiel." He answered. The Elvenking appeared surprised by this,

"Castiel? That is not a name given to man... it is of our language. 'Casta-i-el' in all Elven tongue, means 'Star-like purpose'. With a name like that, how is it that you have become lost?" Castiel looked up, properly, into the Elvenking's eyes then. He saw a trace of real concern,

"I was betrayed." Castiel admitted, though he had no idea why, "By one of my brothers. He stripped me of my power, and cast me out of my home, along with the rest of my family. They all fell... I had to escape. I'm still adjusting to... this." He indicated to his entirely human form. He could not read the Elvenking's quiet expression, so he continued, "I intend to go back. I won't run. I would just get in the way though... as I am now." There was a long silence, then slowly the king arose from his throne, and walked over to Castiel. He stood just under a meter in front of him,

"Rise, Castiel." He commanded. Castiel stood, "There is to be a banquet tomorrow night. You will join us. It is my wish to hear the details of your brother's betrayal, and these powers which were stolen from you." The king gestured for a servant to come forward, "Take our guest to a suitable room."

Castiel followed the servant away from the throne-room, and out into the night air. He was lead across a small bridge, and down another spiralling staircase, and along a board-walk. He wondered why the Elvenking had taken an interest in him, and thanked the stars he had not taken him prisoner. He was also relieved to be provided with food and a comfortable bed. What he could not understand, was why his name meant something to the Elves. He had always believed his name to mean 'My Cover is God' in Hebrew. He decided that he preferred 'Star-like Purpose'.

That night, Castiel slept in relative comfort for the first time since he had become human. He dreamt for the first time since becoming human, and in that dream, he saw his friends. Dean was in front of him, his hand on Castiel's shoulder, and a smile on his face,

"Welcome back, Cas." He said. And then Castiel woke up. Sunlight was pouring into the room through the trees, though it was well sheltered. He sat up slowly, a little confused. What was this pang in his chest? He did not recognize it, but knew it was not physical. Perhaps it was one of these new human emotions? He had a feeling it somehow related to his dream. Not long after that, a servant entered the room with a tray of food. Freshly baked bread, fruit, and a glass of something that smelled sweet. Castiel took the tray, and thanked the servant. He could not believe his luck at how well he was being treated here. Maybe the journey had been worth it after all. Who knew what Hobbits had for breakfast?

Castiel had learned the name of the small-ish people upon arriving in Bree, overhearing conversations about a rumour: A company of dwarves with a single Hobbit had set out not long before him. He had been curious about this strange rumour, but had a quest of his own to take care of: surviving for two months. That had been challenging enough without encountering dwarves.

Castiel spent most of the day being guided around that part of Mirkwood. He was shown where the banquet would be held later that day, and where there would be dancing and singing outside. The whole area amazed Castiel with its beauty. He wondered why humans were not capable of living in such harmony with the forests. He had glimpsed a great, old wisdom in the eyes of the Elvenking though, and wondered if it was the result of many years of this way of life. Why would you throw away something this good, when you had millennia to live with the consequences. No, you would be careful, and put the safety of your people above all else. This kingdom was cut off from the outside world, though the Elves could come and go as they pleased.

After lunch, Castiel was joined by a young, blonde Elf, who lead him back up through the palace in the trees.

"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."

"Hello." Castiel was having real difficulty with introductions, "I'm Castiel. Everyone calls me Cas for some reason..." Legolas eyed him curiously,

"Do you know who Thranduil is?" He asked,

"No. Sorry."

"He is the Elvenking. You met him last night." Legolas smiled a little, "Funny you should arrive now, for a larger group of trespassers came here not one week ago. Both are rare occurrences in these woods." Castiel nodded, a little unsure of where he was going with this, "They now reside in our dungeon. What caught my attention, is that you have all come from the shire. Now this may seem a coincidence, but it is commonly known that only halflings live in the shire. You are no halfling, and neither were those who came before you. What is really going on here?"

"I really have no idea." Castiel replied truthfully. "I did hear about some dwarves travelling together... but I didn't know they were coming here. I only found out where _here_ _is_ today."

"Then perhaps I should introduce you to them. Maybe they can give us answers. Please follow me." Legolas noticed the mortified expression on Castiel's face, "Do not be alarmed. I am not arresting you, Cas." At this, he felt a great flood of relief wash through him.

The dungeons were not so dungeon-like anyway, it turned out, but actually rather pretty. They was less light however, and there was a solemn atmosphere in the place. Legolas lead Castiel past several holding cells, to one particularly large one, where thirteen dwarves were crammed in. Castiel was not sure how to react.

"Listen up Dwarves." Legolas addressed the prisoners. "I have here a man named Castiel. He says he has come here from the Shire. What would you know of this?" He asked no one in particular. Most of the Dwarves remained silent, crossing their arms and pulling the most grumpy looking expressions that they could muster. The youngest spoke up though,

"_I've _never seen him before. Why would we associate with someone like _that_?"

"Shut up, Ori!" One of the older Dwarves clapped him over the head, then returned to his silent, grumpy state.

"Someone twice your height you mean?" Legolas jested.

"What was that, Elf?" A ginger haired dwarf retorted. He did not look like someone that Castiel would want to mess with, and he had a particularly intimidating accent.

"I don't know any of them." Castiel interjected, before this could escalate any further. "In fact I've never seen a Dwarf before."

"That's hardly something to boast about!" Exclaimed a young, dark haired Dwarf, "We're a very fine race. And we certainly don't belong in prison-" The only blonde dwarf had covered his mouth.

"What Kili means to say, is that if you were willing to let us go, we might be of some assistance." There was a general murmur of aproval from the other Dwarves.

"You heard my nephew." A surprisingly majestic Dwarf stood up. "Release us, and we will tell you what we know."

"Entertaining, aren't they?" Legolas smiled, "It is clear to me that you have never met this man before. That will be all." He strode away from the prison cell. Castiel was torn. What were they all doing, locked up here? He gave the dwarves his best apologetic face, then followed Legolas out of the dungeon.

"You said they were trespassing? What did they do differently to me?" he asked Legolas when he caught up with him. Elves, he observed, were far more agile than humans,

"The King did not like their tone. You were polite, and humble in his presence. They were loud, ungrateful, and did nothing to deserve our hospitality."

"I hardly see what I did to-"

"You were honest. You told him the truth about your reason for being here. Your brother's betrayal... And you did not fight back, or demand release. You behaved like a guest, and so you will be treated as such."

Castiel decided to let the subject drop. He had a banquet to attend, and he did not wish to push his luck too far with the prince. That evening however, was when all hell broke loose.

Silvan clothing had been presented to Castiel, for him to wear to the banquet. A male servant helped him dress, as he was unused to such clothing, and before he was escorted to the dancing area. Being dressed by someone else was a little strange, if not uncomfortable for Castiel. He had grown so used to doing things for himself, and as the Elf's hand had lightly brushed his shoulder, he was suddenly hit with an image of Dean. Why was he thinking of Dean now of all times? And then that pang in his chest returned. Humanity must be very confusing, he decided. It was all so complex.

The dancing was all unfamiliar to Castiel, but after observing from the sidelines for a while, he soon analysed the speed, form and gesture in the movements of the dance. It was not too complicated. In fact it was effortlessly simple, however it required angelic grace, which was not something he had possessed even when he was an angel. He was not one to shy away from a challenge however, and he would at least attempt this... dance. He had not tried the dancing in his own dimension before, but this seemed simply by comparison. There was far less hip movement involved.

After an hour of slowly improving dancing, Castiel followed the other Elves to the dining hall, where the banquet was to be served. He was asked to sit next to the king, who sat upon a throne-like dining chair a the head of the table. Food was brought out to the table, which to Castiel's delight, smelled amazing. Thranduil was watching him from where he sat, observing him,

"How have you found my kingdom?" He asked. Castiel hesitated. What was the best way to respond to this? Flattery seemed to work so far,

"Magnificent. Truly uh... spectacular." This seemed to do the trick. Thranduil smiled once more, and took a sip of his drink.

"And I hear you met my son?"

"Yes. He took me to see the prisoners. They were uh... short." He had carefully observed that height jokes seemed popular when it came to Dwarves around here. Thranduil chuckled,

"So I believe we have a few matters to discuss. Firstly, I would like to know what you were doing in the shire, before you left, and secondly-" The king was cut off, as a great light came pouring in from the wall. A red symbol had appeared there, and a moment later, a figure came crashing through. Bark and wood flew everywhere, causing several people to duck and lurch away. The damage was minimal though, compared with the window smashing. Obviously wood did not rupture so dramatically. What held everyone's attention however, was the man who stood up now, to face all the Elves. He winked at Castiel.

"Hey Cas." Dean grinned. "Sorry to intrude. I uh, came for my buddy over here." He walked over to Castiel, without really taking in his surroundings.

"Dean? What is going on? I thought I was staying here for another month." Castiel rose from his seat, "Is something wrong."

"Yeah..." Dean replied, finally taking in the gazes of the other Elves in the room, "Uh, yeah, really sorry about the mess." He walked right up to Castiel "Cas, where the hell is this?" He whispered in his deep voice,

"Mirkwood, apparently. I believe this dimension is called 'middle earth'." He explained. A look of confusion, followed by shock, followed by doubt, followed by amazement flashed across Dean's face,

"Middle Earth? Really?" Dean looked around him. The Elvenking was now standing,

"Who dares to intrude on my party... unannounced?" He asked. Dean turned to look at him, then took the hint,

"I am uh, Dean, son of John. I have come here to escort my friend back to uh..."

"Yes?" Thranduil eyed him. Neither of them had yet answered the King about where they were from, and he was growing highly suspicious.

"Our world." Castiel sighed. He knew now that the king would spot any lies or skirting around the truth, and he had never been a good liar, "We came from another dimension. I landed in Hobbiton... and Dean landed here." Thranduil looked taken aback at this,

"Another dimension? You mean to say that you are not even from Middle Earth? How can this be... your name is like ours. Your visage is that of the mortal race."

"There are humans in our world too. They're just a bit... different." Castiel explained. Dean tugged at his sleeve,

"Cas?" Dean whispered, "What are you wearing? And we need to go. Now. The angels are causing chaos, but I managed to bag us a few. One sent me here. I've got the ingredients for the spell, lets go."

"Go? How will I be able to help you now? I'm still like this..." He gestured to all of himself.

"It would seem to me," Thranduil interrupted, having overheard Dean's not-so-quiet whispering, "that you would be in need of some aid." He continued, "I am curious about this other dimension." He paused for a long moment, his gaze flickering between Dean and Castiel. "I will send with you five of my best archers, and my son. I want you to return them to this domain once matters are settled there. Do you understand? They will report back to me within the year." The colour drained from Legolas' face,

"Father? I will not hesitate to go with them if that is your will, but we know nothing of their world."

"Exactly. I trust the adventure will do you some good. Now go. Do what you must." He turned back to Castiel, "I expect them back in one piece."

Dean was already going over the symbol on the wall again, in the dark, red mixture. Soon it glowed, and he took a few steps back.

"We'll all have to run through at once." He announced.

"Through solid wood?" exclaimed one of the archers,

"Its magic, just trust me." Dean grinned. They all closed ranks, and Dean counted down from three. On three, they all dashed toward the symbol, and reappeared, a moment later, next to a warehouse. No broken anything, just dust. Legolas was already walking away from them, inspecting a sleek, black car. "No, no no, no no." Dean darted past the Elf, and stood protectively in front of the Impala. "Nobody touches my baby." He explained. Legolas looked confused. Dean then walked back over to Castiel, and whispered in his ear, "Dude, how are we going to explain this if he is caught on camera? He looks like... he _is _Orlando Bloom."

"Is that some sort of flower?" Castiel asked,

"Oh I should have known... You have _got_ to watch _Lord of the Rings_ man!"

"Sorry?" One of the Elves had approached them. "Lord of the rings? That sounds like... but it couldn't be..."

"Nothing to worry about!" Dean clapped his hand onto the Elf's shoulder. "That is, really not something to worry about here."

Castiel watched, a little confused, as Dean explained what a car was, and why it was not to be attacked, and why they would need a 'cab'. Something had been building up in Castiel's chest, and he realized now, watching Dean, that he finally understood. He walked over to him, ready to face this new human emotion.

"Dean?" He lead Dean a short distance away from the Elves, who proceeded to inspect the car, discussing the strange materials the wheels were made out of. "Dean, I have something to say to you."

"What is it, Cas? I'm worried those blondes are gonna wreck the Impala..." Dean was suddenly pulled into a tight hug,

"I missed you, Dean."


	2. Return of the King

Dean felt his heart contract at the thought of how many people were crammed into his car. He hoped the Elven armour would not scratch the surfaces. If he would make any exceptions though, it would be for Legolas. He had Legolas in his back seat, and he could not quite get over how amusing this thought was. Squidged in beside Legolas, were several other Elves, all looking serious, though a little confused as to why they were sitting in the car. They were of course, unfamiliar with technology. _Great, now Cas has some technophobe-buddies. They can all be technophobes together in their little gang._ Dean was not jealous. He was definitely not jealous. He had also decided to call them Blondie, Goldilocks, Tulip, Daffodil and Sunshine.

As he turned the ignition on, and started the engine, Dean noticed the Elves all stare at him. Seriously? Were their ears that sensitive? He made a mental note never to take them out clubbing. Dubstep might be the death of them. _Not _that Dean had been thinking about going clubbing with them. Castiel was sitting in the passenger seat for once. He normally had to sit in the back due to Sam's presence , but he was enjoying his new found rank in the hierarchy that was the seating arrangements in the Impala. He began humming.

"_Dear god_, Cas, why would you hum _that_ of all things?" Dean asked him. He had been about to explain to the elves that they needed to wear seatbelts, but had been distracted by the god awful song that Castiel had chosen to hum.

"Well it seemed appropriate. I'm trying to adjust to cultural norms here still." Castiel replied,

"_How_ is _Rebecca Black appropriate_ in _any_ situation?" Dean could feel the urge to hit something rising,

"The lyrics convey a meaningful dilemma about the narrator's struggle to choose between car seats. I found it easy to relate to." Dean face palmed so hard that he thought he might have broken his nose for a moment. The Elves in the back seat were looking from one to the other, even more confused,

"I have to say that I found the tune was lacking too." Legolas interjected. "It was quite distasteful."

"Thank you!" Dean relaxed. At least someone in this car understood the issue at hand. "Maybe I should try Metallica out on you."

"Metalli-what?" Blondie enquired. Dean was already switching on the Impala's cassette player though:

_By the last breath of the fourth winds blow__  
__Better raise your ears__  
__The sound of hooves knocks at your door__  
__Lock up your wife and children now__  
__It's time to wield the blade__  
__For now you have got some company_

The song blasted out the window, but the elves seemed more than pleased with Dean's taste in music. Perhaps this would turn out okay? Castiel on the other hand was not so happy,

"This is about the four horsemen... why would you want to sing about them?" He frowned,

"Its a _song,_ Cas. The writer didn't know the four horsemen actually existed."

"How do you know?" The angel turned to look at Dean, who was rolling his eyes and steering the car out to the main road. The Elves were all very confused about how the car was moving itself, but they seemed to be taking it well. Castiel turned to face them,

"Don't worry, I did not enjoy it either the first time, but I have grown to like Baby." He explained.

"Cas don't you start..."

"You call this 'Baby'?" Legolas asked.

"Well she is my pride and joy-"

"It has a _gender_?" Goldilocks sounded shocked. Dean decided to ignore this comment rather than embarrassing himself further in front of his girl. He would console her later with a sponge and a bucket of soapy water.

A few hours later, the impala finally pulled up in a large car park. Dean sighed, and turned off the ignition,

"Does that key bring her to life whenever you want? That is some magic... Mithrandir would be impressed." Sunshine commented,

"Uhh, yeah I guess." Dean muttered. He did like the sound of impressing Gandalf, though he knew it was not technically magic, and he was not exactly the brains behind the car, mechanic's son or not. They all piled out of the car, into the car park.

"Dean, where are we?" Castiel asked,

"Airport. Sam has been busy while you were away." Dean explained, "We're flying to England. I don't have tickets for these guys though... but I'm pretty sure Legolas can get first class tickets."

"Why would I be able to do such a thing? I know not of the customs of this world..." Legolas frowned,

"Just tell them you're Orlando Bloom, and that you'll pay when you get back to England. You are from England. They will believe you. Say you're paying for these guys too." Dean gestured to the other Elves,

"But I have no money." Legolas protested,

"You do. You are Orlando Bloom, they can probably put it on a flight tab for you. As far as they are concerned, this is something you do regularly okay?"

"Okay... I shall hold you to your word that this is the best course of action." Legolas sighed. He was a little confused as to why Dean was insisting that he was this 'Orlando Bloom' person.

Dean lead the group into the airport, and somehow, after much hassle, they made it through customs. Castiel already had fake I.D. that Dean had acquired for him a while back. Legolas was immediately admitted through with his entourage of Elven warriors. The airport staff were highly amused, and more than half of them were very distracted by the group of devilishly handsome men. Elves, however, it turns out, get travel sick on aeroplanes. By the time they arrived in England the following day, they all had jetlag and felt ill. Dean lead them to a Travelodge, where they stayed over night. Dean took a room with Castiel, while the elves all shared a room together. Dean decided that it would be less awkward this way.

That night, Castiel could not sleep. He had borrowed some pyjama trousers from Dean, which fit well enough, but he had no shirt, and the bed was uncomfortable. He tossed and turned, tried sticking one leg out of the duvet, and hugging the duvet to himself, but it was no use. He simple could not shake the worry in his mind. He turned over to face Dean, who was sound asleep in his bed, and sprawled out in a strange looking pose. Castiel got up, and walked over to examine Dean's sleeping pose: Perhaps he could learn a clue as to how to get comfortable on these cheap beds. He observed that Dean had one foot completely over the edge of the bed, and both arms flung backwards on either side of his head. His body was twisted in the middle, so that part of him was lying on his back, and part was on its side. After thoroughly studying this position, Castiel returned to his bed to attempt to imitate the stance he had now learned.

Half an hour later, Castiel was still wide awake, and even more uncomfortable. He considered waking up Dean, but this seemed unfair to the man who did all the driving. Perhaps he should learn to drive, now that he was human? He should learn some hunting skills from Dean and Sam too, he thought. He sat up slowly, looking to see if Dean had changed position, so that he could try again, when he noticed that Dean was about to fall out of his bed. He was precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress, and slowly rolling over in the direction of the floor.

Castiel flung off his Duvet, and leapt to the floor, just in time to cushion Dean's fall. Dean woke with a start, to realize that not only was he lying on top of Castiel, but he had given the man a concussion,

"Aw crap." He moved so that he was resting on his hands and knees, rather than crushing Castiel under his weight. "Cas? Hey."

Castiel was conscious, but could not focus his eyes or ears on Dean. "_Seurr_ tirrd" He mumbled in a completely distorted voice, while he fought to regain focus. "Ohr hrro, Derrn" He slurred, lightly clasping at Dean's jaw with his hand, as if this would help him keep his eyes in the right spot. Everything was just so blurry though. He pulled Dean a little closer, hoping that would make a difference, "Derrn yrr lrrk _hrrt_"

"Hurt? I look _hurt_?" Dean was confused, and tried slapping Castiel lightly across the cheek, "Come on man, the floor is not a good place to sleep.

"Nrrthr ers trr brrd" Castiel quipped. Dean slapped him a little harder, "Err! I serd neithrr ers thrr bed"

"Huh? You'd rather sleep down here? You mean you were already here when I fell?" Dean asked, even more confused now,

"Well yers and nrr." Castiel was finally managing to focus a little better.

"Still not making any sense, Cas."

"I currdent slurrp, then I srr you fallerng. So I merrved."

"Oh... this is my fault."

"Prurdy murrch." Castiel nodded in agreement. Dean sighed, and crouched down beside his friend, "Wait wurt are you doerng Dern-?" Dean had already begun to lift the man from the floor, and was now carrying him back to his own bed. As soon as Dean had let go, Castiel sat up bolt upright, and grabbed at Dean's shirt, fisting his hands in the material, "I can't sleep!"

"Have you tried-"

"Yes!"

"Then what-"

"Something has been... on my mind, since we left America." Castiel sighed. A look of concern flashed across Dean's eyes, and he sat down on the bed beside him. "What has Sam been doing here? I trust you Dean but... I was gone for a while. Has anything... happened while I was away?"

"Like what?"

"Anything I should know about?" Castiel's gaze lifted to meet Dean's. Dean hesitated, before relaxing, and letting out a deep sigh,

"We think we've found a way to take out Abaddon, once and for all. With her gone, we'll have one less thing to worry about, and we'll be able to focus all our efforts on you, and helping you out with your family crisis" Dean explained.

"Then... then why didn't you tell me? That plan makes sense." Castiel's eyes were filled with hurt, something he was not used to feeling so intensely,

"We... I thought you would be disappointed that we weren't getting straight to the bottom of it... how to take down Metatron and get your powers back..." Dean winced.

"I would like to be of use again... and less of a sitting target but... that's not what's important right now. You said you managed to get some angels on our side already, and I don't like the idea of Abaddon on the loose either."

"You were worried about not being useful?" Dean was surprised, "I uh... have a confession to make."

"A confession?"

"Yeah. Uh... the angels... we're trying to get on our side... well they will be on our side but... They're not alive yet." Dean fumbled around for the right words. Castiel looked baffled, "We're trying to raise Balthazar and Gabriel from the dead. Sam... Sam found a way." Castiel was speechless. He knew there was something off about what Dean was suggesting, but the idea of seeing his brothers alive again... well that was something he longed for.

"Okay. We'll go with that." Castiel placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, attempting to reassure him that he was truly okay with this plan,

"You... really?" Dean perked up, "You're not gonna say its unnatural? Against God's will? Doomed to fail?"

"No. If Sam found a way then... I would like to see Balthazar and Gabriel again... I need to apologize to Balthazar... and Gabriel proved to be a good angel. He would make a strong ally too."

"Yeah well... Go to sleep Cas, you look exhausted. I'll tell you more details tomorrow okay? I'll summarise it for the blonde chicks too."

"Blonde chicks? Do you have hens, Dean?" At this, Dean abruptly face-palmed, and climbed back into his bed, mumbling,

"Elves, Cas. _Elves._"

"They're male-"

"_Go to sleep,_ Cas."

Finally, after a horribly low quality, and surprisingly American looking breakfast, they all took a train to the south west, where Sam was waiting for them. Castiel had managed to sleep properly after his talk with Dean last night, but he was mostly proud of himself for managing to open up to his friend. Heart to heart talks were not his strongest forte, but he was keen to do his best to be there for Dean. He did not want to be someone that Dean could not talk to about his problems, just because he found it hard to talk about his own concerns.

Sam was waiting for them at the train station, though his jaw dropped when he saw their new groupies.

"Uh... Dean... what the hell?"

"Its not what it looks like." Castiel informed him,

"Thanks, Cas." Dean rolled his eyes. "This is Legolas. _Not_ Orlando Bloom. Just so we're clear."

"So I'm not Orlando Bloom? I am becoming severely muddled on this subject..." Legolas complained. Sam just looked from one to the other, then to the band of Elven guards behind them.

"Uh... I'll ask later." Sam could tell that there was a long and complicated story behind this. "Anyway, So I found the map."

"Great!" Dean was genuinely relieved, "Lets see it?" Sam was already taking his bag off his shoulders, and removing a scroll of paper from one of the zipped pockets. He handed the scroll to Dean, who took it, and began unrolling the paper.

"Its blank." He commented,

"Only at the moment." Sam smiled, "I did some research." Dean returned his smile, "So according to this article I found online: The map will reveal itself when the password is uttered."

"Okay, so what's the password." Dean looked up from the map to Sam,

"That's what we need to find out next. The article didn't say. We need to find out who created the map." Sam explained. "I think a good place to start would be where it was made."

"Okay... where is that?"

"The Cornwall. We need to go to St. Michaels Mount." Sam replied. Everyone had blank expressions. "That's where we are now. We're just outside Cornwall, we can take the bus." There was a look of relief on everyone's faces, at the thought of not having to travel very far.

The train had been a strange enough journey, but on the bus, the Elves were receiving even more attention. There was a small group of teenage school girls at the front, all talking loudly about 'that bitch' whoever she was. Suddenly, one of them looked around,

"Oh my god. Its Orlando Bloom!" She all but screeched,

"Oh ma _god_." The others chimed in. They all proceeded to giggle in a very loud, and not particularly feminine manner, in their shrill voices. "Hey think he'll notice us?" More giggling.

Legolas turned to Castiel, and whispered into his ear,

"Are they perhaps some sort of orc halfling?" He asked. Dean, overhearing, tried to muffle his laughter. He managed to straighten his expression though, and began explaining to the group what they were doing here. He told them how Sam had come here to find out more about this map, and hopefully find it. The legend surrounding the map was mostly a mystery, but they had known two things. One, that it was in south west England, and two, that it lead to a weapon of unimaginable power against all evil. So now they were heading on their way to St. Michaels Mount, where Sam said they may be able to find out the password to read the map. Dean hoped they were right, or their search would come to a dead end, and that long flight would have been for nothing.

Upon reaching the coast of Cornwall, they all hopped off the bus, and walked down to the beach. The tide was receding, so they could walk across the causeway soon. Castiel felt a weight in the pit of his stomach, like he knew that something was wrong. The causeway was above sea level at low tide, but completely covered at high tide. They would have to plan to get back before the water level rose again later. Just as the tide was beginning to get low enough however, the worst happened.

The group had all walked a little way down the causeway, near to where it went underwater, when a woman approached them. They had thought nothing of it at first, because there were plenty of tourists around, but this woman stood out. Castiel realized to his horror, that Abaddon had found them. She had a wide smirk plastered across her smug face as she strode slowly toward them. They had nowhere to go. The water was still too deep for them to cross without being slowed down. Sensing the others' alarm, Legolas drew his bow.

"What is your name, lady?" He asked, seeing that she was smartly dressed, but recognized the look of blood-lust in her eyes. "Speak now or my arrow will pierce your skull." Her grin broadened,

"You think I came alone?" She laughed. Several 'tourists' turned around to face them on the beach, and began walking a little down the causeway. The other Elves raised their arrows.

"Crap." Said Dean, as more 'tourists' turned their heads.

"You think I wouldn't notice if you went looking for such a powerful artefact?" Abaddon all but snorted,

"Damn." Said Sam, taking a step backwards.

"That I would not prevent that from happening at all costs?" She signalled for all of the demons on the beach to commence their attack. At this, Legolas fired his arrow. It hit her square between the eyes, much as you might expect from Legolas, except that she made a grimace, before pulling it out of her head, and walking away down the causeway, to let her minions past her. Legolas immediately replaced his arrow with another, aiming for the back of her neck this time. Surely this demon had a weak spot?

"Take out the lesser demons first." Castiel instructed, "Or we'll be 'mince meat'." He quoted his friend. The other Elves were already taking care of this however, so Legolas continued to concentrate his aim on Abaddon. It was then that she reached into her blazer pocket, and withdrew a dark, demonic dagger. The steel of the blade was coal-black, and the hilt was encrusted with symbolic carvings, no doubt amplifying the damage or power behind the blade. She twirled it about in her fingers, and leaned to the left as another arrow came flying toward her neck.

Castiel wanted to fight, but he knew he would be of no use. Sam and Dean had weapons, but he had no practise fighting without his angelic strength and swiftness. Instead he began attempting to wade through the water and cross the causeway, but the current was strong. He could feel his heart racing, and the adrenaline that came with a fight – something that was normally suppressed in angels. He had no idea how to swim, so he could not afford to be taken by the current. That was when Abaddon hurled her dagger at one of the elves.

Blondie cried out in pain, as the blade sunk into the unprotected flesh of his neck. Blood poured from the cut, and his friend tried to hold him steady, covering up the wound with his hand. Castiel was shocked. He had never seen such violence with his human eyes, and it was terrible. The impact was so much greater than he would have thought, and he stumbled backwards. Abaddon laughed, as the lesser demons closed in on them. Then a brilliant light shone from behind them.

The light was blinding, searing Castiel's eyes, so much that he had to close them. He could just make out the sound of hooves, then splashing. As he slowly opened his eyes, he could just make out the horse that was now trotting with ease across the causeway. It's rider however, was still too blinding to look at.

"Saruman?" Legolas thought aloud,

"Nay it cannot be him." Cried Sunshine, "And there is an old man standing far behind him on the causeway, on the side of St. Michaels Mount"

"_How is this possible_?" Abaddon was stepping backwards, "_How are you alive?_"

"It is said, I recall, that when my country needed me once more," Came the calm, confident voice of the rider, "That I would return." Finally the blinding light of the sword dimmed, enough to reveal the rider's form. The first thing Castiel could see, was a flowing red cape. Abaddon screamed,

"PENDRAGON!"


	3. The battle for Cornwall Beach

Castiel nearly slipped over as the knight rode past him. He had finally lowered his sword, reducing the reflection and making it possible to see again. They all moved aside as he approached Abaddon, and pointed his sword to her throat. She was glaring intensely up at the radiant man,

"You mean to say that you would not be here were I still in America?" She asked him, "That you would still be dead?"

"You think I understand what's going on? I only know that this is my land, and you are trespassing in a rather threatening manner." The blonde replied. They all looked at him, a little surprised by his manner of speech,

"Oh great. Arthur doesn't know the situation. I swear if you-"

"I'm Castiel, this is Dean, Sam, Legolas, uh.. the Mirkwood Guard, Abaddon, her servants." Castiel introduced them all slowly and politely. Abaddon grimaced, dragged her hand down her face,

"Don't _tell_ him!" She sighed.

"Has anyone seen a servant walking around?" Arthur turned to face the people behind him. His voice was light, but Castiel noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes, "Ugly, a bit helpless, probably dressed like a peasant?" They all shook their heads, "Right then. Guess I'll have to worry about him later." He turned back to face the demons in front of him. They had all paused, unsure of what Abaddon wanted them to do. They were waiting for a signal. "I am Arthur Pendragon, rightful king of Camelot. You are blocking my path, and it has become clear to me that you are my enemy, or I would not be here." He raised his sword again.

In an instant, Abaddon had moved. She struck at his thigh with her blade, then retreated behind her private army.

"I will not allow this." She said, her voice strangely shaky.

Castiel had a goofy grin on his face, Dean was looking at him quizzically,

"Cas, please tell me you're not a fanboy?"

"If you are referring to whether I admire King Arthur or not, the answer is yes, I am a fanboy." Castiel explained, unaware of what that phrase meant. Dean rolled his eyes, and turned back to face the situation. Legolas put a hand on his shoulder,

"Who is this swordsman? He is a man, and yet glows like an elf. My instincts tell me that he is no enemy... though... he says that he is a king. Do you know him?"

"Its a long story, but basically he is as famous as Orlando Bloom, and has been dead for god knows how long, and now he's back. I think you're right about him being on our side." Dean replied,

"I'm not sure I follow, but that last part is all that I care about." Legolas raised his bow, and went to stand beside the king, aiming at the nearest demon, and shooting him between the eyes,

"Good shot!" Arthur turned to look down at the elf prince,

"Thank you, uh... Your Majesty. I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood." He did not usually refer to himself in this way, but in front of a King, he felt it important to make his status clear. "It is an honour to fight by your side in defeating this common enemy." He also decided that flattery would work with this man,

"Oh." Arthur did indeed, appear flattered. He smiled, "Well then Legolas, keep score. I want to compare demon kills after the battle is over." Legolas' face lit up at the challenge, and he returned the smile, putting his bow away, and drawing his twin elven blades, and slicing the head off a the nearest demon,

"One!" He said, and they both darted forward. Arthur thought that he would have the advantage, being on a horse, but Legolas was swift and fast. The Elven guard were the next to move into the fray, also putting their bows away and drawing their swords. Dean felt a spike of jealousy, and examined the only dagger he had with him. It was small. Slightly embarrassing. He looked over at Sam and shrugged,

"Kill count?" Dean asked.

"Sure." Said Sam, jabbing a demon in the gut. Castiel was left alone in the middle of the causeway, gazing up admiringly at Arthur, until he realized that he was being left out. He panicked. What could he do to be useful in this situation? He could not join the fight directly – he would just get in the way and probably end up in a hostage situation – so he would have to find an alternative.

While the fight raged on, Castiel slipped past the demon army, trying to look like a tourist. They barely acknowledged his presence, preoccupied with the armed king on horseback and the competitive elven prince. When he was further away, he picked up his pace, and began scanning the area for any sign of what he was looking for. He ran all the way back to the main road, and slowed to jog on the tarmac. Soon he was away from the beach, and on a road lined with a short hedge, and an old stone wall. He kept jogging. He knew that he would not have to go far, it was just a matter of finding the right person.

After twenty minutes of searching, Castiel finally found a local cafe. It was set back a way from the road. Tables and chairs were set outside, and in the corner, he spotted an old man reading the newspaper. Castiel approached him,

"Excuse me, but are you a servant?" He asked,

"I beg your pardon?" Said the old man, "Is that any way to talk to your elders young man?" He huffed, lowering his newspaper. "Leave me alone."

"Oh. Yes of course you're right. My apologies." Just then the waiter came out, and placed a glass of wine in front of the man.

"Ah, at last." The old man smiled a little fondly, as if he would never grow tired of the taste of the drink before him. Castiel was no longer paying attention to him though, and faced the waiter,

"You're a servant. Arthur asked for his servant. Are you him?" Castiel asked. The waiter looked confused, but the old man spat out his drink. He coughed for a moment, and the waiter patted him on the back. Finally he spoke up,

"Please could you repeat that young man?"

"I said King Arthur asked for his servant. He is busy fighting uh... things. And um, he was concerned." Castiel explained. The old man began coughing again, then waved his hand about and muttered something. He rummaged about in his coat pockets for what seemed like an eternity, before finally retrieving a glass vial, containing a strange liquid. It looked ancient. Castiel watched with a strange curiosity, as the man muttered some more. His eyes flickered golden, and he downed the liquid in one gulp. The waiter watched in shock, as the old man transformed, suddenly becoming younger. He took on the appearance of a scrawny man in his twenties, with shorter, dark er hair and more colour in his eyes.

"And you called me a young man..." Castiel mumbled,

"Hey I'm still older than you." The young man responded,

"I highly doubt that." Castiel sighed, "Are you Merlin? I had not realized that Arthur was referring to you. I had heard that you are a great man of many achievements."

"Yes, unfortunately Arthur never did see it that way... Not until..." He sounded distant, and was standing up, as if prepared to abandon whatever he had been doing at a moments notice. Merlin began running the way Castiel had come. Did he know where the fight was happening? Castiel jogged after him. It was hard work keeping up with people without his powers. He was growing tired of being useless. He had succeeded in finding the great wizard though, that had to count for something.

Dean was swung his blade to the left, slicing deep into the throat of a demon. He hated doing this, knowing that there was some poor person in there who was possessed, but when there were this many of them, what could you really do about it? They had to take down Abaddon, and this army were in the way. As he struck off the arm from one demon, he found himself facing the causeway. Where was Cas? Dean could see no sign of the angel anywhere. Was he okay?

"Cas?" Dean called. There was no response. Only the cries of battle and the sound of hooves on sand could be heard. Dean spun around, just in time to dodge an oncoming fist, and kicked the demon in the ribs. He did not know how long Castiel had been missing, but he was definitely not here. He would not have fled, Dean knew that, so where was he? Surely he had not tried to join in the fight? Dean grew more worried by the second, and ran over to where Arthur was now swinging his sword at several demons. He was closing in on Abaddon, though he was no longer on horseback. Dean was not really sure where the horse had come from. Perhaps it belonged to someone on the island. It did not look particularly battle-ready. Now that he thought about it, he was fairly sure that there had been a modern saddle on it's back.

"Hey Arthur," He called over to the young king, "Have you seen Cas anywhere? He was wearing a trench coat... uh... a long, beige thing." Arthur lunged at the demon to his right, thrusting his blade deep into where his heart would be,

"Little busy. Just been killing anything with black eyes. I have been stabbing the right people haven't I?" He called back, slashing at the two remaining demons,

"Uh, yeah so long as it was their whole eyes that were black." Dean joined him, and together they simultaneously killed the remaining two demons in front of him.

"Thirty four!" Legolas called over,

"Forty seven!" Arthur yelled back. Legolas looked disgruntled, and returned to his fight. "I lied." Arthur said to Dean, shrugging. "But it's making him kill them faster."

Suddenly, several demons came crashing down in front of them. "Where the hell did they come from?" Arthur asked. Dean whirled around. There was a young man with dark hair, and Castiel stood beside him, looking rather out of breath. Dean ran up to him,

"What the hell man? Where were you?" Dean grabbed the angel by the shoulders, "I was worried sick, Cas." Castiel was surprised to find that Dean's hands were shaking.

"You were... worried sick? I'm sorry. I felt useless just standing there so... I got out of the wa-" Castiel was cut off, shocked. Dean had flung his arms around him, wrapping them tightly around his back.

"Cas, you're not useless." He told him, pulling away slightly to look him in the eye. Then he smiled. "You should wear luminous safety gear in future." Castiel was still surprised by the impact of Dean's embrace. He could feel the man's body heat radiating from him, blanketing him in warmth, and making him feel what could only be described as 'fuzzy'.

"I'm not sure neon colours would go with the beige." He replied, finally smiling back.

Arthur was looking around for the source of whatever had caused those demons to come hurtling to the ground from such a height. Dean had run off, and the elves were all busy. He looked about him, and noticed the last of Abaddon's demons coursing through the air, and landing on their backs in the sand, sending great clouds into the air. Arthur spun to face where they had come from, and froze.

Arthur had been joking earlier, he had thought it impossible that his old friend would be alive, so long after he had died. Arthur was not a complete fool, he had realized, upon awakening, that time had moved on, and he had awoken a long time into the future from when he had died. He knew that Merlin must have died of old age a long time ago, that he must be completely alone now. He had cast all of these thoughts aside however, knowing that there was a battle to be fought – or he would not have awoken at all. He had pushed back all of the pain at the thought of his friends not being here, and how he might hope to live in a world like this. And now here he stood, faced with the one person he had most wanted to see, who he had jokingly called 'ugly' and 'helpless' in a pathetic attempt to fool and distract himself so that he could keep his spirits up during the fight. He could see Merlin, standing just a few feet away from him, and he looked young, healthy, and upon spotting Arthur, he looked overwhelmed. The sunlight reflected in his pale, blue eyes. In those bright orbs, he saw a deep relief, so great that his eyes grew saw, and he felt a wetness in them. He saw sorrow and joy, grief and hope in those eyes, reflecting everything that he knew to be in his own heart. Arthur choked out a stutter,

"Mer... lin..." He took a slow step forward, then noticed a single tear rolling down his friend's cheek. "You..."

"I waited." Merlin said, "I waited a millennium, and more, for you." another tear, this time escaped his other eye. Arthur took another step toward him,

"Merlin-"

"And I'm so glad." Merlin's hands rose to his face, and he attempted in vain to wipe away the tears that were now falling freely. "I'm so glad." He repeated, his voice catching. He felt strong, metal-clad arms reaching around him; just holding him. Arthur slowly let out a breath, he had not known he had been holding in. Someone shouted behind them,

"She's getting away!" Legolas was calling, "Somebody stop the wench!" Out of seemingly thin air, Sam leapt out with his blades, and jabbed them into Abaddon's back. She howled in pain, and thrashed about on her font in the sand,

"Help please!" Sam called, unwilling to take any chances with her. She had escaped one time too many. Merlin sniffled, and reached out a hand, muttering something under his breath. Arthur took a step back, to get out of the way. Abaddon immediately ceased her writhing, and her head fell forward.

"She's incapacitated." Merlin called over. He snuffled.

"Arthur?" Sam called, "I need you. Abaddon is a greater demon. She can only be killed permanently one way..."

"A greater demon?" Arthur asked, walking over to him. He looked down at the paralysed woman. "I think I know." He said, raising his sword. He plunged it deep into her back, causing her to recoil, then scrunch up into a ball, even under the effects of Merlin's spell. She stopped moving, and a black plume of something intangible floated out from the wound. Arthur quickly removed the sword, and slashed through the plume as it rose into the air. There was a bright light, as the sun hit the blade again, and the black smoke had vanished completely. "Generally, Excalibur has that effect on things." He said, smiling.

"...Excalibur... as in_ The_ Excalibur?" Sam's jaw dropped.

"You've heard of it? Well I suppose it has been through a few battles..."

"Oh its only the most famous sword of all time." Sam rolled his eyes. Great, now he was stuck with an ex-angel, six clueless elves and a King who knew nothing of his fame. "You'll get along just great with Legolas."

"That reminds me," Arthur grinned, "Fifty two!" He called over to the Elf prince.

"Fifty five!" Legolas replied, clearly delighted.

"And one greater demon." Arthur grinned.

"That still only counts as one." Legolas grinned back. He realized that he was truly enjoying this quest. Now they just had to figure out what to do about the angels.


End file.
